


Doubts and Nightmares

by Kesra



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cute things, Fluff, M/M, Nightmares, doubts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 13:10:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2774198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kesra/pseuds/Kesra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oh gosh- Inquisitor and Dorian fluff? I guess.... Ashe is having trouble with coming to terms with all his life decisions. <br/>Dorian likes to barge in and distract him from his heavy thoughts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Doubts

The Inquisitor was soaked through by the time he and his caravan pulled through the gates to Skyhold, the stone walkway gathering puddles under their feet as water rained down on them in torrents. The weather was nasty but that didn’t seemed to deter the company’s high spirits, their songs and laughter bellowing out. They all seemed to be still celebrating the victories in Orlias, the atmosphere of the ball still clinging to everyone. Celene had kept her thrown and had pledged her support of the inquisition, what was not to be celebrated?

 Ashe thought this over as he tugged the cowl of his cloak down further over his face, using the rain as and excuse to cover his troubled expression. Everyone was happy he couldn’t ruin that. They deserved to be, if only for a little while. He could carry the brunt of his thoughts. He always did.

The last few days wore heavy on him though, his shoulders stooped and his gut churning as he went over again and again his actions in Orlais and what had come of them. He had been thrown completely out of his element, a Dalish Elf left in the middle of a political minefield with backstabbing and secrets unable to see the truth of anything, and grasping at straws to find a solution. The Grand Duke Gaspard and Grand Duchess Florianne were dead, both by his hands, and he had some how let the cunning elf Briala’s odd requests slide. It was all still so confusing to him and he couldn’t help but doubt every move he’d made. Just thinking on it made his hands shake and the food he’d choked down earlier sit heavily in his stomach.

He was glad for the sight of Skyhold though, if only for the thought that soon he could close the door to his rooms and be finally alone. He hadn’t been alone for weeks, and he needed some solitude. If only for long enough to empty his stomach. He was the great Inquisitor, Andraste’s Herald; he couldn’t afford to be sick in front of those who counted on him. He needed to keep his image strong. The stress was wearing on him though and he knew it wouldn’t be long before one of his inner circle noticed his lack of eating and sleeping, he only hoped a nights sleep in his bed would help all around.

The caravan of people slowed to a stop just inside the gates of Skyhold those on foot splitting off toward the tavern or inner keep, while those on horseback turned their steeds to the stables. Ashe had turned his to do just that when a voice stopped him.

“My lord!” He looked down at a stable hand, his half dry state telling the elf he’d just run out into the rain to meet him. “Let me take care of him, Inquisitor. You head up to the keep.”

Ashe swallowed hard, and lifted his head so the hood on his cloak over shadowed his face, keeping his stricken expressing out of sight. “Y-yes alright.” He coughed to clear out his uncertainty and mustered up his tired limbs to swing off the tall anima, dropping as gracefully as he could from the horse, his legs wobbly under the hours of riding they’d endured. The act of walking normally used his full concentration, so he was given a reprieve from his nagging thoughts of the last few days as he half hobbled up the slippery steps to the inner keep, gently weaving his way around Leliana and Cullen as they paused to talk with a few people right inside the door.

“Inquisitor!” Came Leliana’s voice called him, making him turn back a moment. “Shall we convene in the war room?”

Ashe pulled a face, and tugged his hood down so she could see it through the water dripping down from his wet silver hair. “Leliana, No. Maker we just got back it’s half past night, and unlike you I’d like to sleep a night before diving back into work. Please, Maker just please let me sleep.” He knew his tone was hard and cold, but he couldn’t muster up the will the care. With a final snort he turned from her and headed further into the main hall, toward the throne and the door that would lead to his chamber.

Once behind that door, the panic set in all over again. His chest seized in a cold vice and he could feel his fingers grow numb as thoughts screamed at him behind his eyes. ‘I SHOULDN’T HAVE SAID THAT TO HER! SHE’LL BE SO ANGRY! I NEED TO APOLOGISE! NO! I had every right to ask for sleep. This is all too demanding. I can’t do this!? Was killing Gaspard the right thing? What of Briala? She was planning something…. I can’t do this!’

Head splitting with his spiraling thoughts, and breath short, he stumbled up the stairs to his quarters and some how made it to his desk before he collapsed to the floor short of breath and struggling to get his wet clothes off. It was stifling, the soaked shirts and armor suddenly like chains dragging him down, making it hard to breath. He’d torn off his shirt with violent jerks before the floor spun and nausea hit him hard. It was a miracle he made it to the chamber pot before he lost his breakfast.

“Oh Harold of Andraste—“ The smooth purring voice of Dorian Pavus reached Ashe’s ears before he remembered with a curse he hadn’t shut the door to his room. “—Makers breath!” The mage hissed, staring down at the inquisitor at the top of the stairs, the elf still hunched over his chamber pot on the tail end of his fit of dry heaves. With little hesitation or thinking, Dorian set down the small leather pack he carried and hurried to the elf’s side, smoothly dropping to his knees and easing him up with gentle hands. The Tevinter mage said nothing as he pressed a handkerchief to the other’s lips and helped him up onto the bed. His eyes were assessing, as he looked the skinny elf over, tugging off his boots and starting on the task of getting him out of the rest of his wet clothes.

Ashe knew deep down through his nauseated haze that Dorian wasn’t going to miss anything. He’d notice the gaunt cheeks, the hallowed eyes, and thinning limbs. He could hide his weight loss with his armor, but the mage was stripping him bare, it wouldn’t be hard to notice now that he was not in good shape. “When was the last time you kept something down?” The question made Ashe flinch but he blinked silver eyes down at the mage, his face resigned.

“To be honest I don’t know. The stomach aches and nausea come and go usually, though lately they’ve been constant.” He whispered, dragging a hand up through his hair.

“No wonder you seemed distant at the ball. Here I thought it was because I’d at first refused to dance with you.” Dorian frowned, concern deep in his eyes. “Why haven’t you told anyone?”

“And the people of Skyhold doubt their Inquisitor? Dorian you of all people should know I need my image to stay strong! I can’t just share all my self doubt with everyone!”

“Don’t get snippy with me, elf.” The mage’s voice dipped and anger flared in his amber eyes. “You think you’re the only one with stresses!? Now hush before I give you something REAL to stress over.”

Ashe couldn’t help it, he laughed. Dorian’s bravado was always something he found amusing. The mage always seemed to hide behind his ‘birth’ and ‘status’ playing high and mighty when things were a little out of his depth. The elf found he loved that about him.

“Good, I got a smile for that.” Dorian’s large hand came up to cup his cheek, the palm searing hot against his face. “You’re shivering, Ashe.” The mage sighed softly, standing to lay him back against the bed and drag the blankets and furs over him. “You push yourself too hard I think.” With a glance to the fireplace, Dorian started the wood ablaze with a thought before stepping back and starting to strip. “I think tonight you should stop thinking about all these what ifs flying around in your head and just enjoy a good nights sleep.”

“Easier said than done, mage.” The elf sighed and closed his eyes, the sight of Dorian getting naked beside him unappealing at the moment. He couldn’t bring himself to enjoy it; there was too much going on.

“I know that’s what you think, but you’ve obviously haven’t spent as much time with me as you should then, because you should know by now /I/ can do anything.” Dorian snorted and climbed into the bed, stripped down to his breeches. He made sure Ashe was wrapped tight in warm blankets before he shifted them around so the elf’s head resting on his knee, and his hands were combing through the Inquisitors short silver hair. “Have I told you about the time I was forced to play lute for my father’s friends and made a fool of him?”

“I’m not in the mood for a story, Doria—mmmf” Ashe’s protest was silenced by a hand falling over his mouth, his silver eyes looking up at the mage in frustration.

“Quiet and listen, Inquisitor. Or I’ll make you.” Dorian grinned down at him, leaning in to press a kiss to his forehead before he continued to tell his story of young rebellion and parental torture. Ashe found himself drawn into the story by the deep soothing voice, the gentle litany of his words calming him down and emptying his mind of all thoughts accept for what was being told to him. It wasn’t long before he fell asleep like that, nestled in Dorian’s lap being comforted by a hand stroking his hair and the voice of the man he was very much in love with telling him silly stories.


	2. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashe can't sleep, and Cole tries to help- by bringing in Dorian.

The dreams are cold, dark, and musty. A wash of grays that seemed to bleed into each other, smearing across his consciousness like wet ash, darkening into black. Fading into nothing. They drag at his limbs, pulling him down, drowning him in screams, his screams smothered by hands that claw, tear, and rip. His doubts rise in his chest, choking out the sound in a sudden burst of silence. He is left breathless in the black. He can not see. He can not hear. He can not breath. 

He is woken by a brisk shake and an insistent voice calling his name, pulling him from the black into a bright colorful day, his silvery eyes blinking furiously in an attempt to adjust. 

“Maker, Ashe you were screaming…” Dorian leaned over him, hands sliding from the Inquisitor’s shoulders to press lightly over the elf’s thin throat, warming it. The sight of the enchanter was jarring at best, the gripping fear of his nightmares holding him too tight to smile back and reassure the man. All Ashe could do was glance away with heavy blinks and swallow uselessly around his dry and aching throat. “Speak to me, Inquisitor.” Dorian demanded, his concern hardening slightly around the edges though his voice stayed a gentle whisper.

“There is little to say.” The elf replied, pushing away the hands that tried to sooth. Being doted over right now was not something he could endure. He was raw, an open weeping wound that stung to the touch and throbbed at the breeze in the air. “How did you get in?” Not that he should have been surprised; Dorian always seemed to find his ways into his room when the library was too crowded. This was however the first time the elf had woken with the man in his room when they hadn’t shared a bed the night before, it threw him more than it should of, and adding that to his nightmares left him off kilter and upset. 

“Cole.” That one word was explanation enough it seemed as Dorian shifted back with a grimace, under the elf’s glare. 

“Well get out.” He snapped, swinging his feet to the floor, getting as far from the man as he could. He made it to his desk before another voice joined Dorian’s. 

“Fear, gripping tight black choking… did I do the right thing? Do I ever? … so much blood on my hands marking my soul. Why me? Why am I the chosen one?” 

Ashe spun on his heel to face Cole the spirit, his anger rising like a tide in this throat. Paper flew from his hands in a fluttering arch accenting the scream ripped from his mouth. “GET OUT YOU DAMNED DEMON!” The inquisitor reached for more things to throw at the innocent well-meaning boy, now just a wisp of smoke curling above the carpet. Hands stopped him, and suddenly Dorian was filling his vision, gripping his wrists and dragging him back to the bed. 

“YOU will leave the poor thing a lone!” The enchanter snarled, gripping the elf in a vice like hold under his chin forcing his head up to stare shocked into bright amber eyes. “I may not like the fact you have a spirit wondering around your keep but makers breath you can’t just scream at him when all he’s done is feel compassion toward you.” Dorian gave Ashe a hard shake before letting him go and stepping back, inhaling deeply to calm down. 

“He had no right…” Ashe was wavering now, his initial anger dying away and being overwhelmed by regret. He’d acted the fool it was true. Cole was just doing what came natural for him, seeking out pain and hurt and trying to help. 

“You gave him the right the moment you let him stay.” Dorian replied, crossing his arms over is broad chest. “Now forget him, he’ll live – or not live as the case may be- Is what he said true? These nightmares? Are you truly this plagued by them?” 

The concerned look in Dorian’s eyes was not something Ashe wanted to see. Dorian was a flippant flirtatious flake, not someone who got concerned. “Its nothing you need to worry about, I’ll be fine.” 

“Oh no, Inquisitor. It’s something I have every right to worry about.” 

“What gave you this right?” Ashe fired back, his anger starting to simmer in his chest again. It seemed everyone had right on him now. 

“You did, the moment you said you wanted more than just a night in bed with me. When you told me you wanted a relationship.” Dorian stepped closer and placed his hands on the elf’s shoulders. “So you’re getting one.” The smiled on the man’s face was infuriating and adorable all at the same time. Ashe couldn’t scowl at it for too long. 

“Fine.” He sighed wearily and shrugged himself out of the hands that held him, stumbling back to his bed. He made a mental note as he swayed to never get close to anyone ever again if this was the result. His room crowded when all he wanted was to be alone. “Stay, what ever. I’m going to sleep more.” But he wasn’t. He couldn’t. Sleep would always stay away from him. 

“Well maybe I’ll join you in that. I do like your bed better than mine. Much warmer, with this pretty little thing to snuggle up to. I do love to snuggle up to pretty little things.” The smile in Dorian’s voice was louder than the compliment in his words. The Inquisitor couldn’t fight the laugh that sighed through his nose, his head shaking in amusement despite the room spinning in consequence. 

“Alright, Dorian. Just promise me you’ll be quiet… My head aches.” As if to emphasize this, Ashe dropped to his bed and let his head fall to his hands, cradling the throbbing mass in a hope to lessen the pain. It didn’t help. 

“Oh poor thing.” The enchanter mocked, though he eased onto the bed behind him, careful not to jar the elf and make the headache worse. “Come lay back.” With prodding hands and insistent murmurs, Dorian some how got the moody elf back under the covers, his head resting in the man’s lap. It seemed to be a favorite position for them, Ashe blearily humming the bard’s songs as Dorian raked his fingers through his lover’s short silver hair. “How’s the head now?” He asked softly, magic making his fingers tingle as he took the elf’s pain away. 

“Better…. Thank you.” The elf sighed content were a moment ago he’d been surly and brooding. 

“Thank me by singing that one I like.” Dorian insisted, his fingers skating down the other’s forehead to rub gentle circled around his temples. 

Ashe smiled at the suggestion, his silvery eyes opening to stare up at him. With little wait, he opened his mouth and sang in a soft clear voice, letting the song wash over him and calm him, taking him that much further from his nightmares. 

“Enchanter come to me, Enchanter come to me, Enchanter come to see. Ca-an you, Ca-an you come to see….”


End file.
